


Dance for Glory, Dance for Home

by matrixrefugee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/pseuds/matrixrefugee
Summary: At an Athosian festival, Sheppard watches Teyla dancing...





	Dance for Glory, Dance for Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](https://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[fic_promptly](https://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/)'s [Stargate Atlantis - John/Rodney - watching Teyla dance at an Athosian festival](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/204653.html?thread=8646253#cmt8646253) When I saw this prompt, I jumped at the chance, as it's something I can see happening (it's also very fun in a meta-tastic way, since Rachel Luttrell is a ballerina)

The Athosians had invited the leaders of the Atlantis expedition to their first harvest festival, celebrating their first harvest on the Lantean mainland. A bonfire burned in a pit dug into the ground in the center of the village of tents and shelters, around a fire at which pots on tripods bubbled and fresh game and recently slaughtered livestock cooked on spits, while the cooks chattered and gossiped among themselves and the village kids ran about, playing at warriors and Wraiths. The best and brightest of the young warriors and hunters had gathered for a mock-battle in a nearby clearing, which put Shepard in mind of flag football game that a bunch of his buddies would play every Thanksgiving that saw them back home.

During the feast that followed, a small band of musicians took up a lively melody, tweedling on reed flutes and tapping on hand drums and scraping at nasally stringed instruments that at first hearing sound out of tune, while a girl rattled a pair of dry gourds like maracas.

"Not exactly the high school marching band," Shepard observed, taking a sip of the local moonshine. Just a sip: he swore this stuff burned worse than the batch he had tasted during their first night with the Athosians.

"I was thinking more on the lines of a bad RenFaire band, but music theory isn't my thing," Rodney observed, managing, for a moment, to tear himself away from the plate piled with food that he held.

"Sounds more like the kind of stuff they pipe into bookstores: world music, I think they call it," Shepard said.

"More like out of this world music, if you think about it," Rodney replied.

Teyla moved among the gathering, chatting with people, trading playful jabs with some, complimenting cooks on their recipes or young folk on their festive attire.

Some of the young girls and young men of the clan got up in the middle of the celebration and started to dance, circling the bonfire in a series of light, interweaving steps, One of the older women had started coaxing Teyla, asking her to dance. She refused, laughing and shaking her head, but the woman persisted, another old woman joining in, patting Teyla's arm, offering encouragement. Finally Teyla gave in with a smile of delight, taking off her long leather coat, which the first old woman took. A cheer and applause rose from the villagers as Teyla stepped into the circle, the other dancers making way for her. She raised her arms to shoulder level, spread wide, then leapt into the air, turning in mid air like a leaf, landing lightly on her feet before whirling away, her leather skirt twisting around her long, slim legs. She moved among the dancers, touching each on the shoulder and receiving a similar touch as if it formed part of some ritual as well as a gesture of friendship. Then she whirled away, deeper into the crowd, the dancers whirling about her, she the core of some configuration, like the center of a sunflower or the arms of a snowflake. The music built to a crescendo, matching the dancers note for step. The villagers cheered, some of the younger folk whistling and the older folk emitting ululating trills of delight.

Shepard caught himself smirking: he had seen Teyla move like this, a hundred times before as they trained together, her fighting stance and her movements like some savage dance, beautiful but deadly, the kind of diversion that could lead to her attacker's downfall. He darted a look to Rodney, who stood transfixed, actually not touching a bite of his food: the leg of some fowl poised in his hand, but his mouth hanging slightly open in awe. "Should try dancing with her: she's a real killer," Shepard drawled. Rodney made no reply, clearly too wrapped up in watching the dance.

At that moment, the music rose to a climax, and on a final wail of flutes and rattle of precussion, the music came to a clashing end and the dancers leapt into the air in unison. The crowd roared with delight, whistling and cheering as the dancers parted company and melded back into the gathering, the cooks and the servers offering them plates of food and cups of soup or tea.

Teyla came to Shepard's side, smiling at him. "Nice dance: you folk do it just for fun, or it got some kind of meaning?" he asked.

"Sounds more like a question Jackson would ask," Rodney muttered, finally back on the ground.

"Is not fun a meaning in and of itself?" Teyla asked with a smile, as she helped herself to some of the roast corn on Rodney's plate. "It is a dance of the harvest: we believe that the height of the leaps that the dancers make will help the crops to grow tall and the livestock to grow big after the next greentime, and the strength of their dancing will help ensure they grow strong and the next harvest shall be abundant."

"Well, with dancing like that and the fertilizer we bring, I'd say you'll have both," Shepard said.

"I'd put more stock in the fertilizer -- who took my corn?" Rodney snapped.

"Dancer got her reward," Shepard said, as Teyla munched the half-cob of corn with pleasure, darting a look at Rodney.


End file.
